How bats learned to spread their wings
by Mr-Spock1
Summary: Dumbledore thought of an unusual End of Term Ball. Minerva tried to escape that party and met Severus who also fled. Where that goes? Take a look! TRANSLATION


The usual declaration of renunciation to save my keister…  
I don't own anything and I don't earn any money with that story.

Very special thanks to Lapislazuli. Honey, you're great! Big hug!

I know that many of you dislike the paring Snape/McGonagall that much that it serves to roll your foot nails up! But I simply had to try!  
I think it is important to emphasise that the book figures are optically younger than in the movies (No offence to the brilliant actors!) Perhaps that will help to bring various foot nails back into their normal item…

I also have to announce that my English is not always perfect, but I did my very best to make a good translation to that story. If you are brave enough to try: Have a go!

Improvement suggestions will be welcomed! And forgive me my mistakes…

And if you do not like: You were warned!

* * *

_**How bats learn to spread their wings**_

_**OR**_

_**What Dumbledore certainly didn't knew**_

_by Mr.Spock_

Once again the final examinations were over and once again the concerned students enjoyed the few last remaining days at Hogwarts, before leaving the school for good.  
The weather also conformed to the prevalent good-humoured hordes of students, a bright blue sky arched above the emerald green grounds, the sun gleamed and bathed the castle in a friendly mellow light. Only isolated a few quiet regrets mingled into the merry basic tendency, for some of the almost former students the approaching parting from the school, which had been their home for seven years, was a wee bit difficult. It was like in every year.

Professor Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, turned away form the window of his office and to his deputy headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. "I think in this year we won't have the usual feast in the great hall", he noted jolly and seated himself down in his armchair. "You won't…" "Of course we'll having our party, but a more unceremoniously one; may be as a kind of a garden party. A merry party to the ones, a comfort to the others. In this year we have more students than usual with some difficulties parting from us." Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together which gave her face a strict feature. "Do you really think that's such a good idea, Albus?" "Even an excellent idea, Minerva", he remarked dryly and smiled. He outstretched his arms und cried: "Paper lanterns! And music! Who wants can dance. And instead of the long tables many little tables at the lawn. And we'll have a barbecue!" McGonagall gave her director a look which clearly told for how crazy she thought his idea was. "And when do you think this –hem – party should take place? Not today after all?" "Of course not today, that would be a little too narrow with the preparation. Even with magic the paper lanterns cannot be hung up so fast. I thought of tomorrow." McGonagall almost tapped her forehead to Dumbledore. "Tomorrow?" "Oh well, then the day after tomorrow." Albus was open to an offer. He stooped forwards and rummaged in a drawer of his desk. "And I expect all teachers to appear at the party and of course even help with the preparations", it sounded baffled from under the desk. "Also Professor Binns!" Minerva took a deep breath yet said nothing. Finally Dumbledore resurfaced from the shoals of his desk and put a paper bag right under her nose. "Sherbet lemon?" An excoriated look hit him. Dumbledore shrugged and helped himself to a sherbet lemon. McGonagall imploringly hoped that the sticky fruit drops would glue his teeth together, but to her disappointment her expectation remained unfulfilled. Completely unobstructed Dumbledore waffled further about multicoloured paper lanterns and his idea, how nice it would be if Professor Slughorn, the potions teacher would create a cold punch for the older students. Meekly she nodded and left his office as soon as she could do without being too impolite. "And perhaps some of the students would like to help at the preparation", called Dumbledore after her when she fled down the spiral staircase to escape further ludicrous suggestions of her superior.

When she finally arrived at the safety of her office she vigorously slammed the door behind her and plunged down at her armchair, sighing of relief. She was in a desperate need for a hot cup of tea and five minutes of undisturbed peace. She got her tea immediately by a wave with her wand, but someone seemed to grudge her that peace. She scarcely had led the cup to her mouth when her fireplace out-spat green flames and right in the middle was the bearded head of Dumbledore. "What I forgot earlier", he began, on which McGonagall almost disgorged her tea, she was that scared by Dumbledores sudden appearance. Instead she burned her tongue with the hot tea and choked over her drink while Dumbledore watched her coughing with interest. "What", she hissed at him when she was finally able to breathe again. Dumbledore smiled at her innocently. "I deliberated…" he began but was immediately interrupted by her. "No. No! And again: No!" "But you don't know what I wanted to suggest you", noticed Albus reproachfully. "No! I do not want to know it at all! I'll go now to tell the staff about your latest idea and I'll look for a few students I can persuade to help us." "You could ask Severus", suggested Dumbledore. "That old killjoy? I do not believe that he will part-take at somewhat like a garden party." "Just ask him." Dumbledore answered and disappeared from her fireplace, certainly in order to take away a further lemon drop. McGonagall hoped imploringly that that the citric acid would someday burn him a whole in his tongue. Sighing and with obvious aversion she rose from her armchair, when Dumbledores head appeared again in the fire-place. "And we should provide for sufficient amount of sweets! You should never underestimate the nutritiousness of lemon drops." "Get along with you off my fireplace, Albus", she hissed furiously, turned on her heels and left her superior alone in the fire.

When she had arrived at the staff room she gathered her colleagues around her and submitted them Dumbledores latest idea. As she had already foreseen were their reactions conflicting.  
Professor Flitwick was so enthusiastic he nearly fell of his chair and clapped his hands delighted, while Professor Vector took up the message with rather moderate interest. Professor Binns appeared perfectly unimpressed: "Such frivolous activities are something for living persons", he droned with his whistling voice and floated decent some centimetres over his chair. "We ghosts have no need for such codswallop", he explained snobbishly and tried to escape by floating through the wall. McGonagall thwarted him effectively by her comment: "The headmaster wishes explicit even you to participate in the celebration. And also at the preparations", she added with a smugly grin. Why should she suffer alone? Ghosts were not able to pale, but she thought that Professor Binns became much more pearly-white than usual before he vanished through the wall. "It was absolutely clear to me that he would avoid at any price", noticed Professor Sprout dryly and turned to McGonagall.  
"And how Dumbledore imagines that theatre to be run?"

At the following day the castle formally buzzed of all the activities, exited students were whispering at all corners and rumours about sense and purpose of the garden party were spread around hectically. The house-elves spared themselves no effort to help the staff with the preparations.

And finally they had it. The far lawns around the castle lit up in the multicoloured light of hundreds of lampions, an enormous buffet bent itself under the load of the meals and each quantity of small tables stood scattered like multicoloured flowers on the lawn. In safe distance of the tables was an immense fire place, which served as grill and was served of eager house-elves. From somewhere, nobody knew exactly, from where, had Dumbledore brought such a thing like a gigantic stereo unit which only under-painted the happening musically for the first times. After Dumbledores mandatory speech, which he had to give this time with magically intensified volume, so that everyone could hear him, the feast began. The small house-elves scampered hastily with glasses and plates through the crowd to guarantee that nobody starved.

At last all were well-fed, the sun disappeared like a glowing fireball behind the mountains in the west and the scenery became illuminated by Dumbledores multicoloured paper lanterns. The music played louder and the first pairs joined to dance. Also this time McGonagall was afflicted by her fate, when Dumbledore requested her to a dance. With a reluctant sigh she finally agreed and was spun around by him. "You are damned silent this evening, Minerva. Something wrong with you?" his voice ranged out in her ear. Energetically she shook her head: „No, I'm fine. It's just my feet, they're aching. And I would like to know what Slughorn did with that punch. I'm feeling really queasy." Dumbledore smiled amused. „I am not. Because I'm having fun. I asked Horace for an anti-moroseness-serum. "„You did what? " "Yes, well, I just know my party-poopers. The more you add up with that common cheerfulness the more you'll feel better. Play up, Minerva, be hilarious and light-hearted. Just think for the moment and have fun!" Hilariously he swirled her around him until she just felt like nothing on earth. Finally she was lucky and Sprout saved her when she asked Dumbledore for the next dance. McGonagall turned tail and run away from the hazard zone before someone else got the idea to unnerve her with another dance on that humpy lawn. When she left the pool of light from the paper lanterns she accidentally flushed out half a dozen twosomes whose looked for shelter in the darkness. McGonagall didn't care, officially the school year had ended, and the house-cup was awarded so why should she spoil their party? She fled under the roof of leaves of a large overhanging oak tree and with a sigh she leaned against the rough bark. Behind her back she heard a soft cough. With a low scream she gave a jerk forward. "Excuse me, Professor. I didn't mean to scare you. " McGonagall narrowed her eyes and stared in the darkness. "Severus? Is that you?" Her look groped for the dark outline beside her. „Yes, I am", the student simply said and leaned back at the tree. "What are you doing here? Why are you not at the party?" „I could ask the same question to you, Professor", he replied dryly. "I personally do not appreciate such activities", determined Severus then. "Me, too." McGonagall replied and leaned herself next to her student against the wide tree trunk. "And nevertheless you helped during the preparations? Then again thanks." She imagined how the Slytherin raised his brow in his inimitable manner when he answered: "I had no other obligations to satisfy. "No", she agreed, "nevertheless you finished school right now. What will you do now?" "I'm not sure by now"; answered Severus in an avoiding manner. "I'm waiting for the result of my exams." "Oh, come on, Severus! As if you had to fear about your exam results! I've never seen such an intelligent and hard-working student like you were." Severus blushed and was glad that she couldn't see him in the darkness. "Thanks", he commented in a troubled short kind. "There is no need to blush"; it rang out from his left. "…?" "Don't forget, I am an animagus. Cats can also see in the darkness", she noted. "Additional to that you're emanating some remarkable warmth at that moment." "It is just because of that strange concoction of Professor Slughorn", he snarled. "Since I tried a glass of it I'm feeling a bit – odd." "That does not surprise me. Slughorn added an anti-moroseness-serum. Professor Dumbledore just told me about a few moments ago when I was feeling queasy as well as you." "I see." Silently they leaned next to each other at the oak. "And what we're supposed to do against this effect?" "According to Albus we have to adapt to that common cheerfulness and having fun. Then the effect loses itself." "Well great. If there is anything else left." McGonagall refrained from a grin; the young man seemed to have a liking of Albus ideas just as much as she did.

A melody sounded over to them from afar. "What does he play now", McGonagall wondered soft-spoken. "Strauss", Severus noted shortly. "You know that composition?" "For sure. My mother loved to dance and taught me dancing. She also loved to listen to Strauss." "You can dance?" "Yep." "It has been a long time since I have danced a waltz"; McGonagall stated thoughtfully and looked at the dark shape at her side. Severus pretended to be deaf. McGonagall made it clearer. "Would you possibly care to dance with me, Severus?" "Me? With you? Dancing?" "Yes. Come on, no one will see us!" Moved by sudden euphoria, she searched in the dark for his hand. Sighing, Severus devoted into his fate. McGonagall felt how his fingers closed firmly around her own and how he put the other hand gropingly to her waist. Carefully, paying attention to the unevenness of the soil, they made a few steps, but then they were just carried away simply by the music. Funnily enough McGonagall felt very secure in the arms of her student. No, former student, she improved in thoughts, and she felt tempted to lean her head on his shoulder but then nevertheless did not. Possibly it would put him into flight. Also Severus lost bit by bit his rigid body attitude and relaxed observable. From McGonagalls black hair a fine odoriferousness rose into his the nose, somewhat sweetly, but not unpleasantly. A part of his brain was busy to divide the scent into its components while the other part wanted simply to enjoy it. Full of self-mockery he raised his brows up. On the one hand he wanted that dance to end, but on the other hand he regretted the thought that then he had to release her again. Somehow it felt damned well hold this woman in his arms. Suddenly he wanted to kill dragons and defeat enemies, he wanted to perform outrageous heroic deeds, and he wanted to fight like a Don Quichotte, only alone for her sake. His internal confusion grew observable and settled in his body attitude.

McGonagall sensed how he suddenly stiffed again and tried to keep the correct distance. A small smile stole across her face. "Do I make you that nervous, Severus", McGonagall asked, and he heard the smile in her voice. Did she laugh at him?

But his fears resolved immediately when she did something completely unexpected.

It positively took his breath away when McGonagall eventually leaned her head on his shoulder and nestled to him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. For a moment he frantically thought what he should do now. But before he could struggle himself to a snappish comment that impulse had gone, because after all he thought it was not a bad feeling to have her that near to him. In an almost knee-jerk action he pulled her even tighter to him not without kicking himself mentally in his back immediately for that action. What made him do that?

This question arose to McGonagall likewise. What the hell came over her when she nestled to this young man? She seemed to have taken leave of her senses. But - it was a pleasant feeling.

She decided to follow Dumbledores advice and not to struggle with thoughts of later times.

When the music finally faded away they remained a moment long as rigidly, before they separated with quiet regrets from each other. "That was – very pleasant, Severus", said McGonagall with a hawing voice. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Professor", he returned with a throaty voice. Embarrassed he cleared his throat. "I also experienced that dance as pleasantly." It was McGonagall who finally broke the bashful silence. "What I always wanted to tell you…" She began but was interrupted abrasive by him: "Please say anything, Professor. What ever you'd like to tell me it would not suit now." She felt his burning look resting on her. She nodded softly although of course he couldn't see it. "Well, all right." Both of them remained silent persistently. Eventually McGonagall brought herself to return to the party. "Well, then I'll go back", she announced. "And thank you again for the dance." "Do you really have to go", it rang out of the darkness.

McGonagall hesitated. Had she really heard a quiet undertone of longing from his voice? "Would you like me to stay", she asked irritated. "I would appreciate it", returned it dry. She gave a soft smile. Not even in a private atmosphere, surrounded by nearly complete darkness, Severus could stand by that, what he felt. "Well, Mr. Snape, if that's the case." She answered back with played equanimity and settled herself down at the soil next to him and leaned her back against the trunk. "I always thought that you feel discomforted by other peoples company." "That is correct", he confirmed. Her next question surprised him. "Why?" "Why what", he asked back, in order to win time. "Why do you preferring being alone?" She couldn't see him, was however absolutely convinced of the fact that he bared his teeth in a sarcastically way. "That is a dull-witted question", he commented. "Why? I'm just interested about." She heard him snarled something what sounded a bit like "females". "What did you say?" "Nothing." "Well, why do you preferring loneliness?"

Furiously he bursted out: "Because anyone ever wanted me! They avoid me; they scoff me, so why should I look for company?" "Possibly you looked for the company of the wrong people", she gave to consider and noticed, how his lean body beside her grew stiff. She reached over for him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Please, do not run away". She approached and felt his tensed musculature under her fingers. "I didn't want to imply that your loneliness is your own fault. But you do not make it easy for the people to like you." Her voice sounded soft. "Did I ever scoff you, Severus?" She sensed how he shook his head in the darkness. "No." His voice was hoarse. In silence they sat next to each other in the darkness. Severus felt the warmth of her hand on his shoulder and tried hard not to think of that what he'd liked to do with that hand right now. To hold it, for example and…

'_No! You won't think about that!' He commanded himself._

"Severus? Is everything all right with you?" Her voice ranged like old velvet at his ear.

'_Much too__ closely at his ear',_ he thought. And: '_God, how it sounds when she expressed my name in that way!'_ "Of course, I'm feeling all right", he replied gruffly. Too gruffly apparently, because to his immense regrets she took her hand away from his shoulder. "I'm sorry", sounded his voice now a little softer. "No sweat!" "But it is! It is a problem, I think. You're sitting here with me instead of having fun at the party. You care for me and I act like a horrible git against you." "Not more horrible than usual", she noted dryly and could thereafter immediately bitten her tongue.

'_I just behave as he always expects by the people, snotty and sneering. No wonder he became that offish.'_Loud she said: "Now I have to beg your pardon. I am not right to call you horrible." "You're not the only one", he explained with played equanimity. "I know." He felt her voice sounded sad. "Professor?" "It's nothing", she replied. "For sure?" "Yes, for sure." "Okay." He bent forwards and pulled his arms around his knees. "You want to leave?" She asked, misunderstanding his movement. "I did not have the intention, but if you became tired of my company…" Flexible he stood up. "No, Severus, please wait." Also McGonagall rose from her moss pillow. He just stood there expectantly, curious about what she would tell him. "I don't want you to leave. Your companionship is very pleasant."

'_Pleasant? Well, better than nothing', _he thought, but however paused undetermined. She stood close to him; he felt her soft and quick breath at his neck. "I'm sorry. If I said something to hurt or offend you…" Severus couldn't believe his ears. McGonagall made an excuse to him? For any reason a hard lump formed in his throat and made it unable for him to give an answer. She seemed to understand and groped for his hand in the darkness. "Why you are so nervously, Severus?" Severus was incapable to answer. He stood there rooted to the spot, choked at the lump in his throat and did not know what he should reply. There was that marvellous woman in front of him – much too close of course – and hold his hand. He swallowed. The whole thing had to be terminated as fast as possible. It was already embarrassingly enough. Nevertheless he could do anything else but rising his hand to touch her cheek. She cringed, but didn't fend him of. Severus became bolder. His hand moved over her cheeks, traced carefully the outlines of her face, painted tenderly like a wind breath over her lips and drove finally over her hair. McGonagall was unable to think straight. She felt how feelings bestirred themselves in her whose she had already regarded for done for ages. Against better knowledge she closed her eyes and allowed Severus to go on. How long she had missed such tenderness. Suddenly she felt, how Severus kissed her. She felt the warm lips of her student, which moved carefully and unbelievably gently over her face. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks. Professor McGonagall couldn't suppress a sigh. "Minerva ", he whispered. Minerva however, suddenly recollected who she was and where she was. With a horrified groan she flinched from him. What made her do that? How could she let it happened? Severus felt as if she would have dealt him a blow fair in the face. Finally she regained her composure.

"Severus, how dare you! I am your teacher! I am much too old for you!" Severus lifted his head. That was not really the reaction he would have had expected.

He did not even need one second, to be able to find the suitable answer. "You are not old", he noted and supplemented then: "In addition you're not my teacher anymore. Not since that noon." She couldn't think of a suitable replying to this comment. "Nevertheless, Severus, it is not correct." "I cannot state that I'm sorry", his voice had that well-known dry quality. Something in her chest was affected with cramp. "I expect any apologize from you", she let him know keen to keep her voice firm. "It was my fault as well." "Well, then I will go now in order to avoid – a repetition. Good evening, Professor." His voice oozed with sarcasm. McGonagall knew that she had hurt that sensitive human and that if she let him go wouldn't have the chance of limiting the damage she inflicted. For a moment she fought against that small sensible voice in her head and nearly succeeded, but then she heard herself say: "Severus, wouldn't you like to accompany me with a cup of tea? I don't think I could go to bed so easily. Not after that." Severus was likewise surprised about it as she was herself. Just right now he has had the impression that McGonagall was terribly embarrassed about the whole affair and couldn't expect to forget about as soon as possible.

A little bit irritated he raised a brow, stifled back a snappy comment and accepted then: „That is completely agreeable, Professor. A good cup of tea is never wrong."

On their way back to the castle they didn't meet anybody; apparently all the others have gone to bed. "Hmm, I actually didn't realized how late it is", McGonagall noted while Severus trotted behind her in silence. When they arrived at her office she opened the door and kindled a fire in the fireplace by dangling with her wand, it had become noticeably cool, since the sun had gone down. But instead of settling down in her office she just went through and opened the door behind her desk. "Come on, Severus. That is not an official appointment so we can sit down in the living-room." He only nodded and entered a bit shy her living space. He had never been at her private rooms before. Here she kindled also a fire which should warm up the room and light up the area. With a further movement of her wand she caused to appear a pot of tea. "If you please, Severus, the cups are in the display cabinet", sounded her soft voice again. Severus nodded again and got carefully the gossamer-thin porcelain out. She noticed his look: „Those once belonged to my grandmother. I use them only rarely." She poured him tea and settled down on the sofa next to him. Severus pretended to be very busy to stir his tea and with that he got a reason not to have to look at her. He had trouble to switch his feelings off for McGonagall which had pushed them so powerful in his mind at this evening.

Now, as she sat so close beside him he had immense problems of controlling himself. His hands were slightly trembling and his heart beat so loud he thought she might be able to be able to hear it. He didn't dare to look in her face, he was too afraid his feelings could be too clearly written in his face. McGonagall stared into the fire. She had been fooling herself, it wasn't just simple sympathy she felt for Severus, it was not just pride she felt about his outstanding intellect and his extraordinary achievements. How stupid had she been not to acknowledge it. Not to notice that the young man seemed to be falling in love with her. Not to notice that she felt herself nothing different.

She had never allowed herself to use the word 'Love' in that relation. Love. _'A damned large word'_, she thought. Was it justified? And how should she deal with it now? She looked to Severus and surprised him by staring at her. Nevertheless he had the manners to blush. Anyhow he could not cut loose from her sight.

Nevertheless it could not tear away itself from its sight. The light of the fire illuminated her face in the profile, lit up the one side, while the other one remained in the dark, which strengthened the mysterious charisma of this woman for him terribly. The soft light retouched the first small crinkles in her face and softened the lines, which the life had in-drawn. Her raven black hair, as usual restrained in a tight bun, gleamed silky and without each trace of grey. She might not have been a beauty in the classical sense, but she had something, which fascinated and immensely attracted him absolutely. Her austere, distinctive face with that delicately chiselled features, eyes in which he would have liked to swim in. Her figure, slim, but nevertheless womanlike, with soft curves, where they belonged, which woke the desire in him to touch her again. He wanted her and also he didn't want to want her. Nevertheless she was still a Professor McGonagall, his teacher for transfiguration and head of Gryffindorhouse, the stated rivals of Slytherin.

Being silent she sipped at her tea, and then she asked: "And what should I do with you now?" Oh, he had a very good idea what she could do with him, but he preferred not to explain it further. With played equanimity he shrugged while his face burned. "I cannot say that I regret what happened", he explained then hawing, "because it wouldn't be true. But I did not want to throw you off your guard." Instead of an answer she only nodded and stared again in the fire. Her arm touched his and caused to run hot-cold showers through his body. Finally, when he couldn't bear it any longer, he put away his cup finally and rose. "Then I will go to bed", noted he and stared unhappy at the floor. McGonagall scared up from her thoughts and rose likewise. She nodded. "Nevertheless, it was a memorable evening."  
She stood in front of him; the fire light surrounded her with a gloriole. And again he couldn't do anything else but reached out for her and touched again, for the last time, her soft cheek. She looked at him with wide eyes and didn't move from the spot, she hardly breathed.

He couldn't resist the thought that his Professor seemed to have suddenly similar problems with her hormone household as himself. Thus encouraged, he pulled her closer to him and bent himself down to her. Her warm breath touched his cheek themselves to it down there. Their warm breath touched its cheek, before he softly touched her lips with his. Then he backed off a little and waited how she would react. Her lips, usually pressed together strict and unyieldingly, were now touched by a soft and tender smile and devoted themselves willingly to his still careful kiss. His heart suddenly did a somersault and again their lips touched. First gently and carefully, but then more passionate. She permitted willingly that he opened her mouth with his and his tongue played with hers. His hand rested firm and sure and so unbelievable warm on her waist and pulled her closer to his body. Deep in his mouth he felt her groaning. They separated only from each other, when they had to breathe urgently, in order not to drown in this kiss. Heavily breathing they stood one in front of the other, still in a firm embrace. His black eyes searched for an indication in her face of what she felt. "It is up to you, Minerva." Oh, how well it felt to be able to finally call her with her name! She looked at him questioning. "It is up to you whether I stay or leave." She burned internally under his torridity view. Slowly, thoughtful she shook her head and stared longingly at his lips. Slowly he approached again to her mouth, in order to investigate it again. His hand moved into her hair and skilfully pulled it the needles out and released it from its prison. Opulent and thick, black like a raven's wing it fell in soft waves nearly up to her waist. Delighted he let his hand slide by the long strands of hair. Minerva pressed herself to him and again her sweet odoriferousness raised into his the nose. Suddenly he asked: "What perfume do you use?" She murmured something incomprehensible into his ear and kissed him again.

Slowly and a little unsure Severus undressed Minerva in the warm fire light , until she stood naked before him, her heavy robes surged like a rigid wave of clothes around her feet. Her body was maidenly slender and her alabaster-white skin was breathed on golden by the flickering firelight. Severus gazed at her, he'd never imagined her that beautiful. Doubts overcame him. Would he be enough for her? And as if she would have read his mind, she stepped closer to him, raised her hand and put her finger on his lips, tender and soft as if she wanted to touch a butterfly.

With an animal sound, somewhere between a groan and a yelp, he entwined his arms around her and pressed her firmly against his body, before he raised her and carried her to the bed like a precious treasure, where he set her off gently. "I'd never thought that you also…" would have never thought that you also..." Severus voice trembled with excitation, demand and a due portion of nervousness. Minerva threw one already naughty gaze at him and gave him a beaming smile. "Relax, Severus." Her hand moved gropingly over his torso. "You say that so easy", he grumbled and ripped his cloak off. "Why so nervous", she asked coquettish. Then it met her like a hammer. Abruptly she strained up. "Does it mean… You never…?" "No. No, you're the first", he whispered with embarrassed blushed cheeks. She took his face in her hands and forced him to watch her. With the thumbs she stroked soft over his cheeks. "And then you cannot find anything better than your old Professor?" Stubborn he answered: "You are not old. And: No, I wanted to find anyone else!" He watched her with a defiant expression, before he pressed his lips again on hers. "However I must say", she murmured in his ear when he released her mouth finally again, "you act very skilful." With skilful fingers she helped him to undress finally completely and nestled herself at his warm skin. With the fingertips she drew small circles on his chest and his belly, stroked with the hand over his hips, from there downward and at the inside of his thigh again up. Only with trouble he suppressed a groan. She peered at him. "Let yourself go, Severus." More than her touch it was her voice which caused a vibrating feeling in his abdomen. When she then closed her hand soft around his testicles he sharply drew in the air and thrusted it out again with a violent sigh. "Already better", she murmured and nibbled at his ear. After that she put her fingers around his erected penis and slowly let her hand glide up and down. Again he gasped. Very pleased she looked at him and bent herself down to enclose his penis carefully with her lips. His soft and surprised whimpering turned her on extraordinarily. The cold contended genius with those unbelievable bad manners lay in her bed and whimpered like a small child under her hand, Minerva could hardly believe. Finally he could not stand it any longer and jostled her softly down from his body. He directed her with gently insistence under himself and pushed her into the cushions. Again he sank in her mouth, investigated it with his tongue and sucked pleasurably at her lower lip. His lips slid along her neck, he bit her tenderly in the neck and drew with his tongue a fierily burning trace down to her breasts. With a hand he painted gently over her boobs, slowly and with pleasure he contoured her swelling curves, circled with the palms over her nipples. He lowered his lips on her breasts; repainted with his tongue the shape of her breasts, kissed, licked and sucked them, bit her softly and breathed again tender kisses at the biting places. Her fingers reached into his hair. She directed his head with gentle persistence downward, until his lips touched fluffy curly hair. Trembling of craving she lifted her pelvis towards him. He let his fingers playful glide through her pubes and kissed her inner thighs, His fingers stroke along her labia, circled over her clit. Finally he put his hands under her butt cheeks and began to regale her with his tongue, first carefully, then bolder, using her groaning as signposts. She was beside herself of longing and wound herself under his body like a serpent until she came with a sharp cry to her climax. "And you said you have no experience"; she gasped and pulled him up to herself. He took her face again in both hands and kissed her softly at the forehead, moved his lips over her face, nibbled tenderly at her mouth and sucked playfully at her lower lip. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she welcomed him willingly. He penetrated her mouth carefully, circled her tongue with his and withdrew himself again and again bantering, in order to spur her on. Finally she gasped at air and wheezed:" Oh my God, Severus. Just take me. Take me at last!" "I thought I would never ever hear these words from you"; he murmured into her hair and embraced her tight, while he carefully searched his way into her body. When he had finally sunk himself completely in her, he remained one moment resting in her. "Oh my God, Severus! Stop dawdling around!" "You will wake up the whole castle if you'll carry on screaming", he grumbled and finally began to move in her. First he began with gentle and regular pushes to empathize himself in her, increased however then soon in speed and intensity. Minerva entangled her legs around his hips, pressed herself more closely to him and tried to meet his movements in order to feel him deeper in her. When he noticed that he made everything correct, he moved faster, his impacts became deeper and more violently, her hands clanged in his back and left red scratches. Their bodies were damp with sweat, their breath went gasping. During all this time he hadn't taken his eyes from her; his black eyes were sunken in her blue one to burn her picture in his mind for ever.

And again Minerva was ready; she reared up under him and bit him into the shoulder, when she came. Severus still pushed a few times hard in her and then he poured under ecstatic convulsions in her. Panting he leaned his head against her shoulder. Minerva brushed his welding damp strands of hair out of his face. Carefully he rolled down from her and polled her close in his arms. She snuggled herself in his embrace, nestled her face to his chest and listened to his heart beat.

His hands lay warm and strong on her body, ready to protect her against all inconvenience. His lips stroke over her hair, he buried his face in her opulent magnificent head of hair. Inhaled deeply its scent und murmured soft terms of endearment. Lazy she raised her hand up to his shoulder and touched the bite wound. "I've never thought that you would bring out such an animal aspect in me", she noted whispering. "I always knew that a volcano slumbers in you", he bantered at her and twitched playful at a strand of her hair. "Besides, you little feral cat scratched my back." "Let me see!" He turned and showed her the bloody scratches on his back which she had caused. Carefully she caressed with her hand over the scrapes, moved her hand in small circles over his back, down the ribs, over his hips and his bottom. "If you'd like to sleep, better not do that", he snarled into the pillows. She scratched caressing with her nails over his thighs. "Who told you something about sleeping?" Her hand slid between his legs. "Bloody girl!" With this call he rolled at his back while she was skilfully busy with her hand at his penis. "You mean that…" "Exactly that is what I mean!"

She kneeled over him and looked curious in his face. With the top of her tongue she contoured his lips, nibbled at the corner of his mouth and finally pressed her lips firmly to his. Ultimately they parted of each other. With a satisfied gaze at his burly erection she noted: And don't tell me you don't want to!" "Not likely!" He raised his head and played with his tongue around her nipples. Slowly she glided along his body, over him and onto him, spread her thighs and lowered slowly with pleasure up on him. With for the time being still easy movements she let her hips circle, while he beamed at her and simply watched her. She bent herself down to him to kiss him again, without stopping her dance for a second. Then Minerva set upright again, while his hands slid gently and passionately at the same time over her neck and her breasts, he clasped her waist, followed then the soft curve of her hip. Finally he put his hands around her bottom to support her rhythm. Fascinated he observed her face, while her speed increased and she pressed her knees more firmly into his flanks. He reared up under her when he gushed in her and buried his face between her boobs. She entangled her arms around him and pressed him close, and then she followed him up to the climax.

Still she lay on him, the hand on his chest and felt under her fingertips his heart beat. Sometime she raised her head and smiled at him. Severus replied that smile. "I'd never thought I would say that, but you finished me", she whispered. His smile widened. "Stop grinning at me", she demanded more resolutely and beat him soft at the chest. "Do you take the Mickey out of me?" With that familiar twinkle in her eyes she looked suddenly again very similar to the strict head of house. "I would never dare to!" He raised his head and kissed her at the forehead before he embraced her tighter. "Come to me, kitten." He got hold of a corner of the blanket and covered Minerva's welding damp body. "Before you catch a cold." "So much care", she scoffed gently. "Not really. But imagine if you have to explain to Professor Dumbledore where you got yourself your cold. Or rather: Whereby." She boxed him easily into the ribs: "Don't become cheeky, Mister Snape!" Again he pulled her closer and bedded her head on his shoulder. She nestled herself tight in his embrace and finally fell asleep, wrapped into his affectionate warmth.

Severus hadn't slept this night but tried to memorise every single detail for ever. He had carefully tucked Minerva up while that beautiful woman deeply slept in his arms. The morning had come; the sun was up to rise and bathed the bedroom in a rosy light. He feared that moment when she would awake because with that their parting would draw nearer inexorable

But finally she bestirred herself in his arms and opened her eyes. Lazily she turned her face towards him and smiled at him. „Good morning", she murmured and breathed a kiss at his cheek. Severus gave her a bittersweet smile and kissed her in return. She was like a kitten in his arms, soft and playful, with in torn claws. Her hand glided over his hip. „Who knew? " „Knew what? " „Who knew that this notorious sourpuss with the bad manners could be such a sensitive lover?" For punishment he bit her soft at the neck. "Madame, I have to insist", he growled into her ear, "If you don't stop scoffing me I feel impelled to bite out a bit of your neck." She laughed, a deep throaty sound und turned complete in his direction. Her fingers glided over his chest. „How late is it actually? " „Nearly Nine. " „You will miss your train. " „Who cares? So I will take another way back home." He pressed her tighter at his body and kissed her naked shoulder. „You know, you can't stay. " The look she gave him was sad. He nodded. „I know", he murmured into her hair and wound one of that raven black hair strands around his finger, „parallel lines. They don't even meet in eternity. " He looked at her. „But for that moment I am here, with you, as if we're on an island where no one can harm us." He approached again to her mouth and suffocated her budding protest with an intimate kiss. "Before I have to go I want to love you again." Instead of an answer she entwined her arms more firmly around him and pressed herself to him.

_**Sequel:**** Twenty Years later**_

The sultriness of the past day rested oppressive on the area, a sulphur-yellow light seeped from the thick clouds and falsified the colours. It was quietly, too quiet, as if nature would stop the breath. Only once a bird beeped, it sounded cruelly abandoned. Wind arose and whipped the treetops. It began to rain, thick drops splashed into the dust, in the distance rumbled thunder. Minerva McGonagall hurried to reach the castle before that threatening thunderstorm. But the rain pattering became more and more violently and covered the castle like a curtain.  
Discharging a quiet malediction she looked for protection under the under the large overhanging crown of a tree. It might not have been the last word of the subject to remain under a tree in a thunderstorm but at least she didn't become much wetter than she was already. Easily out of breath she leaned against the rough trunk and observed the ever more rapidly sequential twitching of the thunderbolts in the lead-grey sky. From afar approached a dark shape on hasty double quick, another lonely wanderer, who had been surprised by the sudden tempest. When the shape likewise emerged protection searching under her tree, she recognized it. A rather wet Severus Snape stood in front of her shook the raindrops out of his hair like a young dog. "Severus", she welcomed her colleague. "Minerva", he returned scarcely. He regarded her with raised brows and registered the wet spots on her cloak. "You are not that wet." "No, I was quicker under the tree." "Silly idea, to stay under a tree in a thunderstorm", he snarled and leaned beside her to that rough bark. "I know." With a half smile she looked at him. "What", he started up. "I just thought that we apparently always meet coincidentally under any trees." He shot her a dark glance, which she acknowledged with an amused upward glance to him. . "Do you want to allude thereby to our last dendrology meeting?" "Um... Yes, I think so.!" A careful smile played around her mouth. "Merlin! Always the same with you women! You have to reminiscence about the past constantly. "„I do not wallow in memories! And already not at all constantly. That is the first time in twenty years that I mention this night at all!" With flashing eyes she built up herself in front of him and stared the wet man directly in the face. Rolling thunder let both of them flinch. "Well, great", noted Snape unnecessarily. McGonagall flung her arms around herself and leaned again to the tree. Now and then she threw a rapid side view to Snape, which he seemed to ignore perfectly. Silently they stared together into the dark sky and waited for the force of the tempest to diminish.

Only after an almost endless time the rain died down, the lightning twitched less frequently in the sky and the thunder growled more quietly.  
The clouds tore; the sun sank in the west as a red fire ball and sent again long red golden rays over the wet meadows. The dawn closed in and the pale full moon climbed into the sky. The air became cool and fresh; the forbidden forest was silhouetted against the dark night sky. Stars sparkled; crickets chirped and displaced the ominous silence. The caved path was full of puddles, they gleamed silver in the moonlight. The damp smell of the muddy black earth filled the air and mixed up with the heavy sweet scent of flowering roses. And still the two Professors stood silently under the tree. Neither of them was ready to leave this place as the first.  
Still McGonagall honoured Snape with an occasional sideway glance until he finally sighed irritated:" Oh well, you nag!" "What?" She looked at him with played astonishment. "Given that you want to hear about…" Full of expectation she looked up to him. He cleared his throat "I sometimes think of that night"; he admitted and gazed at her discontented. "Did you ever regret it", she wanted to know. He seemed to consider for an instant. ""All right, never mind, I didn't want to know that precisely." He noted the vulnerability behind her sarcasm. "No", he said finally, "I've never regretted." "Me not either." She gave him a gently smile which he acknowledged with soft embarrassment. "My goodness, you're still as shy as you used to be at that time", she noted, "At least when it comes to certain things." Tauntingly he raised a brow. "How should I understand that?" "You take up with a whole bunch of Death Eater without batting an eye but woe betides you if it comes to something private! As fast as you put on the blinders then!" Without each mockery she looked into his eyes. He did not know, how he should answer to that. "You needn't say anything." She got him rid of his problem. A tender smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "You know me better than I would like it." "I know." Snape watched her attentively.

"You are still very beautiful, Minerva." She gave him again this special smile, which was alone reserved for him. "We became old", she countered, "both." "Possibly", he agreed and watched her. "However, for me you will always be that fascinating attractive woman I loved at that time." He was silent for a moment. "We could lead one of those typical 'Do you still remember' conversations, but…" "... but for what use", she completed the sentence for him. . "Twenty years are a bloody long time", he pondered, "perhaps too long." "Perhaps." Their views met over an aeon old abyss away. "You will catch yourself a cold", she noted finally. "So much care about me?" "Come off it! But who will teach that meddlesome students brewing potions if you're out of action?" "That's correct." "Exactly." They left their shelter and moved their way up to the castle. Only an attentive observer would have noticed that both walked somewhat more closely next to each other, than on the path would have been absolutely necessary.

END


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